


An interesting development

by Didyamissme



Category: johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Lots of cuddles, mrs Hudson has a camera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:26:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3966082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Didyamissme/pseuds/Didyamissme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John teaches Sherlock a (fluffy) lesson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic please no hate!  
> Yeah sorry it's short  
> I own no characters, only my unhealthily vivid imagination

Sherlock shivered in his bedsheets. He was really cold, and falling into the Thames for the third time this month chasing a killer hasn't helped. His teeth chattering, he pulled his bedsheets in closer. He then let out an enourmous "ahCHOO!"

Feeling embarrassed, he cursed himself silently. Catching a sickness was below him- he shouldn't even be cold! Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Sherlock?" Called John. "Are you ok?" "I'm fine john!! Just doing experiments!" But his nose betrayed him. "Ahchoo!"

Determined, John walked on anyway. He did not see Sherlock talking to his skull or fiddling with his DNA samples. He saw Sherlock wearing his usual lazy pants and bedsheets, visibly shivering and shaking with cold. 

John sat down on the bed. "Love, are you ok?" "Yes, leave me alone!" John reached out to touch sherlocks shoulder. "You're cold!!" Sherlock sniffed haughtily. "I don't get cold." John wasn't having any of it. "Sherlock, shut up." He pulled the skinny man over and gave him a blanket. Sherlock scowled at first but then blushed at the gesture of affection. "Blankets are good for cuddling you know." "What's cuddling?" 

John felt sick. Hadn't Sherlock ever cuddled before? Then he remembered Sherlock hades us he has never hugged or kissed. In fact he was rather confused at the whole idea of physical affection. It was time for john to teach Sherlock something instead of the other way around.

He pulled the blanket over Sherlock, and said slowly so as not to completely befuddle the detective "Sherlock, I'm going to teach you cuddling. Can I touch you? Is that ok?" Sherlock shuddered, and after a few moments said shakily "yes." John gently began running the detectives back and shoulders, and pulling him closer, nudging him under the blanket. 

Sherlock sighed. He had never experienced this before and it was slightly unnerving. He felt johns strong arms rub soothing circles on his lower back and allowed him to cradle Sherlock closer. This was a new sensation and he loved it. Just feeling loved and happy and in someone's arms. Johns hands moved to his hair, tickling his temples and softly tugging his curls. 

John suddenly felt the tense body go slack. The great Sherlock Holmes had fallen asleep in his arms and was softly snoring.  
The next morning john woke up to see the rare English sun streaming through the blinds. He nuzzled sherlocks raven curls and rubbed his shoulders more. This was the lower time in 2 weeks Sherlock had slept, and he wasn't about to wake him.

Suddenly he saw the pale lids lift and saw the ocean blue eyes stare at him. "John?" Sherlock whispered. "Yes, love?" Sherlock snuggled closer. "I liked that."


	2. A study in snuggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain is feeling quite creative!!  
> Some possible feels here  
> But all fluff, it's my specialty  
> Happy reading dearies

John was shuffling around the kitchen the next morning, deep in thought about last night. He has gotten to cuddle with Sherlock. An incredibly intimate thing considering the consulting detective rarely even shook hands. He put the kettle on, wanting to make tea- it was a soothing ritual of his, and generally good for thinking.

Sherlock said he liked it, but john wasn't so sure. Sherlock had nearly lashed out when they first 'made contact' and John couldn't quite figure out why, exactly. Putting some half and half creamer in his tea, he was struck with a sudden realisation. Vulnerability. Sherlock was ALWAYS in control, always choosing to run about the alleys of London as he pleases, and perhaps being vulnerable was new to him.  
That must be it.

"You might not want to use that mug john." Came a drawl behind him, shaking him from his thoughts. He turned around to see Sherlock, back turned to him, absentmindedly plucking the strings of his beloved violen. John quickly set the mug down. "Um. Why is that, Sherlock?" "Because I may have used it yesterday to hold the fingers." John hastily jumped back. Just bloody lovely, there goes his morning tea.

He sat down across from Sherlock, saying carefully "I'm not particularly thirsty this morning, to say the truth." Sherlock looked up at him. "John," he said, Also carefully choosing his words, "what....was that last night?" John smiled warmly. "That, Sherlock, was physical affection. One of the few things you do not know." The detective blushed a deep scarlet and looked away. "It's ok, Sherlock. You don't have to know what it is if you don't want to." Sherlock was at a loss of words. People were always expecting him to 'know.' 

Struggling with his words and straining to communicate what he felt, Sherlock said slowly "it's just.... I would LIKE to know, it seems to release relaxing chemicals for both of us and is, with further investigation, possibly healthy, emotionally..." John put up his hands. "You're being too scientific about this. Snuggling is what people do when they like each other and are comfortable with each other. This has nothing to do with chemicals or brains or anything." Sherlock sighed, crestfallen. "I wish it was."

John raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to learn?" Sherlock smiled a rare smile. "Sure." John dragged him out of the chair and into the couch. "Since you're new I will be in control of the situation, and if you aren't comfortable with anything, just tell me, love." Sherlock nodded silently and took a deep breath. John lay down next to Sherlock, pulling him close so they were facing each other, and began to intertwine legs and arms, lowering the gangly detective so he was curled up next to john with his curly head resting on johns shoulder. 

Sherlock shuddered, and suddenly the tall mans body lost its tension, he felt his breath hitch and he felt like he was spinning out in control. He was floating and sinking and flying all at the same time, all sorts of thoughts racing through his fevered mind, him and john and the universe and the thoughts were spiralling and spinning and he was just suspended in this horridly tangled web of emotions. He trembled out if the sheer power this particular emotion released. John then later one hand on his chest, intertwining their fingers and the other hand found his hair and rubbed.

Sherlocks mind palace was working furuiously at top speed- words and formulas, calculations and deductions, solutions and problems and it was all so much and suddenly he wasn't sure if he liked this anymore, didn't like the murmurings john floated to his ear canals. He panicked and the alarm bells went off and he was imploding and exposing and it was confusing and he was flooded it was too much....

"Sherlock, it's ok. I'm here."

And with those 5 words, the alarms shut down, every little painful thought calmed and Sherlock Holmes was floating, sinking, and flying... With John Watson at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry they are such short chapters  
> But I'm not a very good writer  
> Enjoy the fluff  
> Comment, kudos, or suggestions


	3. A lestrade encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Hudson has a camera and lestrade asks a question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!  
> Again, I don't own any characters   
> Only my incurably vivid imagination   
> Comment and kudos thank you dearies

The two men lay on the couch quietly enjoying the moment when john heard a snap from the doorway. (Sherlock was out cold asleep for the 2nd time.) Mrs Hudson stood in the flat with a large camera. "Oh, you two are so CUTE- I'm going to mail this to that nice man from Scotland Yard!" John said firmly "you will mail that to no one! It's private!" He jumped off and made a lunge for the camera.

Mrs Hudson giggled as John tripped over a large cannonball (the floor of 221b was littered with many strange objects and tripping was common) and began shuffling hastily over. Suddenly a cheerful voice rang out behind him and Greg lestrade stepped into the room. "Show that 'nice man from Scotland Yard' what?" Mrs Hudson glanced at the sleeping Sherlock and the nervous john. She handed him the camera.

Lestrades eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He looked closer at the photo, squinting. "You sure this isn't photoshopped?" Mrs Hudson beamed. "No dear. It's adorable." He gaped openly. "So, that's-" "yep." Mrs Hudson said, cutting him off. John crossed his arms, annoyed.  
"The bloke needed a hug- it's no big deal. Why are you here, Greg, is there a case?"  
John raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"No," Greg said. "Unless, of course, you mean the case of the love bugs." John scowled. Greg put up his hands good-naturedly. " I'm only teasing. I think it's cute actually. No, I came to ask you if you and Sherlock would like to come to the morgue. Molly claims to have an interesting new mouth disease in one of her corpses and I'm sure you would like to see it." John turned around to ask Sherlock if he wanted to go, but the skinny detective wasn't there.

"Sherlock?" John called. He could've sworn he had been RIGHT THERE just a few seconds ago, but you can never tell with Sherlock. He looked around and sighed. "C'mon Greg, he's probably already there or something." Greg nodded sympathetically- he knows what it was like when Sherlock took off unexpectedly (he had done it numerous times at crime scenes) but it usually has a pretty positive outcome.

The two men walked off to the morgue. They crossed the pavement, looking down, not saying anything. Neither of them said anything for a while, until lestrade cleared his thoughts loudly. "Are you really in love with him?" He blurted out curiously. John sighed. "I don't know. I think he needs it, so I guess....yes."

Unbeknownst to Greg lestrade and John Watson, somewhere in the shadows of a London ally a lone detective stood up, swished up the flaps of his long black coat, and smiled before running to the morgue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading dearies  
> Request,  
> Comment,  
> Or kudos  
> See you soon!!


	4. Advice from molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is patient. Sherlock tries to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Sorry I haven't updated, been so busy. I wanted to write in some Molly for you all so here you go.

Molly hooper was a romantic. She loved... Well...being in love. In fact, she had a tiny crush on Sherlock Holmes since he first broke into her lab. However, she had met someone else, just her type too. So it was quite surprising to her when she found Sherlock lurking around the potassium at 10:00 am so he could ask her about love.  
"Molly, please help me and by the way your last body suffered from breast not lung cancer for cause of death."

She walked into the lab, knowing full well he was following her and that he probably nicked her last foot. But this seemed quite important to him, and since Molly hooper was a friendly, patient soul she would answer his questions to the best of her abilities. "Molly...." Sherlock said, looking down. "I've come to ask you about something. I could not go to lestrade for this, I doubt he'd understand so I am quite sorry about this, should it inconvenience you." 

Molly nodded appreciatively. This was probably another little thing Sherlock didn't understand and needed advice. After all, it was all she could do after he gave her advice on her ex boyfriend Jim. "What is it now, sher?" She asked calmly. Secretly she hoped this was not another conversation about the solar system. A few years ago Sherlock had gotten in such a strop about it because apparently everyone knew about it but him. This strop was so bad he had overturned one of the morgue medical tables, dumping her body on the floor and giving it a good kick. This was only made worse when he overheard her tell a coworker that his strop was of 'cosmic proportions.'

"I think I'm in what you call love and the person I am in love with feels the same way." Molly gasped. This was nuts, even for Sherlock. "Well, who's the lucky lady?" She asked happily. Internally she was nervous for poor Sherlock- what if this is a repeat of a decade ago with that awful Eileen Adler or whatever her name was? That awful woman broke the heart Sherlock claimed he didn't have, but she was soon 'taken care of." After all, hell hath no fury like a Sherlock scorned. But on to the present. 

Sherlock sighed and bit his lip. "It's....he's not a lady, Molly." Oh. So Sherlock really was gay or at least bi. "Well then, who's the lucky GUY?" "Um...john." Of course it would be john. Lucky John. "Well, you know who and what you're in love with I don't see why you need my help Sherlock."  
He grimaced and knocked over a beaker in frustration. " that's just it Molly. How do I tell him I'm in love with him. It seems so weak of me, what if he doesn't like me anymore because if it?" Molly groaned. This would take quite a lot of explaining. This would be a tough one. And she might need to roll out the diagram of the human brain for this one.

"And those chemicals are released, causing the neurons to be fired in order to create 'love.'" Molly sighed. Sherlock had hid himself when john came, blushing as he climbed into a cabinet. "send him away, we aren't finished!" He exclaimed nervously. Molly rolled her eyes but sent lestrade and John off looking around the cemetery. She had then proceeded to devote two hours of her time to trying to explain what love is and how to express it so that Sherlock could understand it scientifically. There seemed there was no other way he would try to unless it involved a complicated breakdown of which neurons are firing when. And those two hours hadn't been easy. Sherlock broke 4 beakers and no less then 8 holes were put in the wall as he tried to 'replicate' what it was like.

"Use your words Sherlock." She tried fruitlessly for the 9th time. He was practicing his 'speech' and really, to his credit was doing great until it came time to say the three crucial words: I love you. Once he got there he just kind of made these horrible choking strangled sounds, as if it physically hurt him to admit love. After the 23rd try she said "clearly this is not working. Is there any way you express yourself without using words?" He flailed his arms. "I don't know, Molly hooper. Maybe I'm just bloody incapable of it!" She shook her head furiously. Oh no you don't, she thought to yourself. 

"I didn't spend 2, no- 3 hours to hear you give up. You are an incredibly smart, the smartest man I know and dammit you will use your intelligence to figure it out! Don't you DARE go home and just sit there and brood with your skull or play with the violen- somebody loves you and you have opportunities so don't you dare give up, Sherlock Holmes! We never gave up on you!" Her face red, her breathing heavy she stomped off. Sherlock sat on stunned silence, trying to process everything he heard. This was extremely powerful for Molly and maybe, just this once, he will listen. Suddenly, his face lit up. A conclusion hit him. He pulled on his beloved black belstaff coat and blue scarf, found Molly and gave her a big hug before dashing off. Oh, he might not play WITH the violin when he got home, but he's certainly going to play.

He would play his heart out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading dearies!! As always, comment, kudos or request!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and kudos thank you dearies!! Hate comments not appreciated, but if you gotta vent you gotta vent. New chapter soon.


End file.
